


Escape and Relief

by mangocianamarch



Series: Le Livre de L'un par La Dame Marciana [20]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: DAI Trespasser timeline, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Possible Spoilers, possible spoilers for DAI Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylvaine Lavellan tries - and fails - to hide the fact that the Anchor is catching up with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape and Relief

**Author's Note:**

> So I made a text post on Tumblr about wanting [a role reversal scene for the Cullenmance](http://ledamemangociana.tumblr.com/post/128078888611/okay-also-you-know-what-i-really-want-in-terms-of) in DAI Trespasser, and this fic was my excuse to see it in writing at least :P Apologies for any mistakes, I am, as always, unbeta’d and even though I’m typing this up after having handwritten it first, some things are bound to slip through the cracks because I type too fast sometimes.

Sylvaine is so focused on her palm that she doesn’t even hear the door to her quarters opening and closing, even in the silence of her solitude.

“I thought I might find you here,” comes Cullen’s gentle tone. Sylvaine quickly and surreptitiously pulls her leather glove back over her left hand.

“I needed some air,” she answers from the balcony, and it isn’t completely a lie, “Far too many nobles...”

“Not enough liquor?” Cullen finishes for her with a small laugh that Sylvaine can’t help mirroring, “Hope you don’t mind if I borrow that reason for my own escape from the party, should someone wonder where I’ve disappeared to.”

Sylvaine snorts, turning back to the ountain view from her balcony. “ _You_  escaping from nobles is  _believable_ , Cullen,” she points out, “But what’s your excuse for coming  _here_ , to my quarters, of all places?”

The sound of metal scraping against stone tells Sylvaine Cullen is coming closer. “Er, it’s closer than my own office?” Cullen offers.

“So is Josie’s office,” Sylvaine replies, “And thusly, the war room.”

Cullen’s arms circle her waist, and Sylvaine leans back into his embrace. “Very true,” Cullen agrees, “But you’re not  _there_.”

Sylvaine shakes her head, giggles a little. “How is it I’m involved with the sappiest  _shem_  in all of Thedas?” she teases.

It’s Cullen’s turn to snort. “Your Worship, I object,” he says, kissing up the side of her neck, “When was the last time you spent more than five minutes with Dorian and Bull? Or Josephine and Rainier?”

“Hmmm, you have a point there,” Sylvaine answers, her voice faltering and weakening into a sigh when Cullen’s lips touch that sensitive spot just behind her right ear, “...Oy...”

The next kiss presses deeper on her skin. “What?” he asks with feigned innocence and an almost inaudible hum.

“What yourself,” Sylvaine protests weakly,”You giant, cheating, no-good, teasing... _hhhnnngggg_.”

Sylvaine turns in Cullen’s arms, and when she kisses him, it’s with an urgent hunger. Cullen’s grip on her tightens as he answers with equal fervor. Sylvaine whimpers a little into his mouth when he pulls her more flush against his body, but it turns into a gasp of pain when the magic in her hand spasms behind her glove.

Cullen is quick to pull away, worry etched all over his face. “Syl?” he breathes, his hands gentle on her cheeks, “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

Sylvaine winces against another quick, sudden but fleeting flash of pain. “Nothing,” she lies, flexing the fingers on her left hand, “It’s nothing. I”m fine.”

But Cullen fixes her with a look she can only describe as half-exasperated, half-patronizing. “You don’t honestly think I’ll believe that, do you?” he asks.

Sylvaine sighs. “I’m sorry,” she offers, “It’s just...It was quick. It’s gone now. I’m okay.”

Cullen strokes a hand into her hair. “Why don’t I believe you?” he says softly.

Sylvaine reaches up and takes his right hand in her left, and it’s immediately soothing. “Well, you should,” she tries to convince him, “Because it’s true.”

“Those sound suspiciously like words one who is  _not_ okay might say,” Cullen notes, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Stop analyzing me,” Sylvaine laughs, pulling him to her again, stopping him from retorting by kissing him. She directs his hand down and behind her thigh. The grip he applies there tells her Cullen doesn’t need further telling. When Sylvaine jumps up and wraps her legs around him, Cullen catches her with ease.

“Oy,” Cullen remarks with a small chuckle.

“What?” answers Sylvaine, landing a kiss on the top of his nose.

“What yourself, you...” Cullen returns, “Inquisitor Lavellan, you’re trying to distract me.”

Sylvaine kisses him soundly before answering. “Commander, how dare you insinuate such a thing of me?” Another kiss, her tongue flick out slightly. “I’m  _seducing_  you. And it’s  _working_  too, judging by the way you’re looking at me right now.”

Cullen laughs, and it lights up his eyes. “Is it now?” he retorts.

Sylvaine shrugs as she leans into him. “You tell  _me_ , Commander,” she says, punctuating it with a more possessive kiss.

“You keep calling me that,” Cullen half-growls against her lips, “I may just have to live up to it.”

It takes every ounce of control in Sylvaine’s body to not grind into him. “I think I’d like to see that...” she whispers, drawing his bottom lip between her teeth and pulling a little, “ _Commander_.”

“Oh you are  _asking_  for it now,” Cullen laughs, and Sylvaine squeals and giggles, her grip on him tight and needy as he rushes the both back inside and onto her bed.

\-- + -- + --

The nightmare wakes her with a jolt and a gasp, and Sylvaine is panting and breaking out in a cold sweat. A faint crackling sound accompanies the fleeting shot of pain in her left hand. When her sight finally re focuses and her vision clears, it’s to Cullen hovering over her, concern on his handsome face.

“Bad dream?” Cullen asks softly.

Sylvaine lowers herself back onto her pillow gingerly and swallows, drawing her sheets over her naked breasts. “ _Really_  bad dream,” she replies with a sigh, “And they’re getting worse.”

“Oh, Syl,” Cullen breathes, his hand over hers, and she knows that  _he_  knows, and that may be more painful than what’s going on in her palm. Sylvaine sits up, caresses Cullen’s cheek with her free hand, and gives him a soft smile.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and Culen’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

That makes Cullen grin gently. “You can let me worry about you a little,” he says, repeating words she herself had told him once.

Sylvaine giggles, and the sincere happiness in it feels like relief. “Fine then,” she says in faux acquiescence, “It  _has_  been a while since I had someone who worried about me.”

“Tsk, and now you’ve made it sad,” Cullen admonishes jokingly, settling back against the hadboard of the bed and lacing his fingers with those on her left as Sylvaine leans into him. “Does it hurt?”

“Not right now,” Sylvaine answers truthfully, “Sometimes it just goes off, but it doesn’t usually last.” She almost tells him that the pain progresses with every flash, but manages to stop herself.

Cullen brings her hand to his lips, and the fading green light momentarily glows on the contrast of her dark skin against his paleness. He kisses her knuckles and sighs.

“What are we going to do, Sylvaine?” he asks quietly, thumb stroking the back of her hand, and he sounds so sad and...helpless, “What in Andraste’s name are we going to do.”

“...We’re going to get married.”

THe words come out of Sylvaine’s mouth before she even realizes that the idea has formed in her head. She’s almost sure she’s looking as stunned as Cullen is.

“We...what?”

Sylvaine looks up at Cullen, who looks torn between utter surprise and unspeakable elation. “We get married,” she says again, “We’ve een together two years, we’ve talked about it, we don’t know what will happen in the future, let’s...let’s just do it, Cullen. Let’s...let’s just get married.”

The last word is barely out before Cullen’s lips are on hers, his kiss fervent and deep. It leaves Sylvaine breathless and needing more. Barely breaking their kiss, Culen draws her ont his lap, and when he pulls away, he presses her frward, her forehead resting on his.

“I want you to know,” Cullen sighs, “I am a little upset.”

“Upset?!” Sylvaine echoes, incredulous, sitting up on his torso.

“But Cullen is smiling. “I wanted to propose,” he reveals, “I wanted to take you somewhere romantic and private and present you with a ring and formally ask for your hand in marriage. I know that isn’t how your people do it but...I wanted to do it, and I wanted it to be special.”

Sylvaine deflates, and she caresses his cheek, her other hand on his chest, above his heartbeat. “ _Ma vhenan_ ,” she whispers, “That would’ve been wonderful.”

“Yes, it would have,” answers Cullen, and he lets out a deep breath in mock indignation, “But I suppose this will have to do. Sylvaine smacks his shoulder, and Cullen chuckles. “How, though? When? Preparations will have to be made, you might want a new dress made for it, perhaps, and it would be nice to have my fami--”

“Tomorrow.”

Again, Sylvaine blurts out the idea before her mind can even wrap around it.

“Tomorrow,” she repeats, “Leli-Divine Victoria  _is_  arriving tomorrow, after all. We can just...I don’t know, have her do it, I suppose. Officiate, and all that.”

“‘Just have her do it?’” Cullen laughs, “How terribly romantic of you, darling?”

“Oh, please,” Sylvaine retorts with a roll of her eyes, “You like the idea, I can tell.”

Cullen’s smile is affectionate and bright. “Yes I do,” he replies, his hands warm on the skin of her waist, “I think it’s perfect.” He pulls Sylvaine down to him and kisses her swetly. If the emotions coursing through Sylvaine are affecting her Anchor, in that moment she doesn’t feel it, barely fels anything else, in fact, other than Cullen holding her close.

“So,” Sylvaine pants, “...That’s settled then.”

Cullen snorts out a laugh. “ _So_  romantic,” he notes, and Sylvaine can’t help joining him in laughter.

 

**_~ END. ~_ **


End file.
